It wouldn't be long, now. The balloonist and his companion, the shaman, the one we had just been told we were really after, would give up soon. Even with the other three zeppelins down, there were still about thirty of us, and only two of them. They had no chance, and would give up if they knew what was good for them.
We spotted them on the mountainside, climbing as fast as they could, their daemons trying to encourage them. A thoroughly piteous sight. The forest was burning accusingly behind us, and the mountains were steep ahead. The zeppelin was preparing to land, and we were all ready.
Because, of course, we were Imperial Guards, possibly the best-trained soldiers in the world. Or, at least, the world we left behind when we took up this assignment. So we were all standing, our packs filled with only what we would need immediately; rifles and bullets, mainly. Quagedse yawned deeply before getting to his feet and standing beside me, his ermine- soft coat ruffling my hand. We were ready. This was what we lived for.
We felt the zeppelin touch the ground as one unit, a single entity. Romochka pulled back the door, letting down the gangplank, and we spilled out. Quagedse raced ahead a few paces and then back, relishing the excitement of a capture. Victory was assured; where else would the fugitives go?
I straightened my bright blue uniform, the only clothing I owned that made me proud. I wanted to arrive at the capture looking my very best. Then, setting my face in the expression characteristic of an imperial guard, I set off up the slope behind my daemon.
In fact, the capture was not as simple as we had planned. Instead of surrendering when they clearly knew all hope was completely gone, the old shaman had gone further up into the mountains, leaving the balloonist with a rifle at his back. Romochka saw this, and shouted at us to spread out, making things as hard for him as we could. Because, although we had the numbers, he had the position, and he might hold us off for quite some time.
I heard a crack behind me, and the zeppelin's engine died. The balloonist had shot the zeppelin! And to what purpose? I ducked behind a boulder, suddenly afraid of this man who so easily held our victory, and our lives, in his sights.
Romochka yelled at us, and told us to rush him at the same time and make things hardest for him. This also held a great risk of us being shot. I grabbed onto Quagedse's supple fur with my left hand, and steadied my rifle with my right. It was loaded and cocked.
From my right, I could hear Romochka's rifle. I couldn't see whether it had hit its target or not, but when Romochka fell over, a bullet in his chest, it was clear that it had not. Running over to him, I reached to check his pulse, but the way his arm fell over limply told me the answer. I must admit, I couldn't restrain myself, despite Quagedse's urging to the contrary, and aimed my rifle at the boulder. To my left, one of my comrades did the same.
And then the fight actually began. I fired as quickly as I could, loading bullets into my rifle and firing them off almost immediately, Quagedse holding them in her mouth until I could reach for them and reload. Men were falling from boulders around me, and the man at the top of the gulch seemed nowhere nearer to surrender. As I stretched up to fire again, I felt a sudden pain in my side.
It was like floating on a tiny gust of air. Everything around me seemed to slow down, and Quagedse fell onto my stomach, her tongue lolling with the pain she felt, but was too far away for me to feel. I couldn't hear the shooting anymore, so I lay down, all urgency seeming to slip away as I could feel my life doing the same. Even as I watched, Quagedse seemed to flicker, like one of the candles Elizaveta used to light on St. Lucia day, when Valentina come around to our bedroom, her daemon at her heels in the traditional form of a dog, the same shape Saint Lucia's took, carrying the tray of rolls and mugs of chocolatl to the family.
I could see Elizaveta lighting the candle by our bedside; it was always so much shorter than the ones we lit at other times of the year. And it flickered, just like Quagedse's existence was doing. And there was Valentina! Her soft eyes were gazing into mine, saying, "Papa, Mama's coming, and she'll make everything alright." And I believed her.
Behind me, the zeppelin exploded. Beneath me, the ground gave way. Beside me, Quagedse gave a final weak flicker, and died.
We spotted them on the mountainside, climbing as fast as they could, their daemons trying to encourage them. A thoroughly piteous sight. The forest was burning accusingly behind us, and the mountains were steep ahead. The zeppelin was preparing to land, and we were all ready.
Because, of course, we were Imperial Guards, possibly the best-trained soldiers in the world. Or, at least, the world we left behind when we took up this assignment. So we were all standing, our packs filled with only what we would need immediately; rifles and bullets, mainly. Quagedse yawned deeply before getting to his feet and standing beside me, his ermine- soft coat ruffling my hand. We were ready. This was what we lived for.
We felt the zeppelin touch the ground as one unit, a single entity. Romochka pulled back the door, letting down the gangplank, and we spilled out. Quagedse raced ahead a few paces and then back, relishing the excitement of a capture. Victory was assured; where else would the fugitives go?
I straightened my bright blue uniform, the only clothing I owned that made me proud. I wanted to arrive at the capture looking my very best. Then, setting my face in the expression characteristic of an imperial guard, I set off up the slope behind my daemon.
In fact, the capture was not as simple as we had planned. Instead of surrendering when they clearly knew all hope was completely gone, the old shaman had gone further up into the mountains, leaving the balloonist with a rifle at his back. Romochka saw this, and shouted at us to spread out, making things as hard for him as we could. Because, although we had the numbers, he had the position, and he might hold us off for quite some time.
I heard a crack behind me, and the zeppelin's engine died. The balloonist had shot the zeppelin! And to what purpose? I ducked behind a boulder, suddenly afraid of this man who so easily held our victory, and our lives, in his sights.
Romochka yelled at us, and told us to rush him at the same time and make things hardest for him. This also held a great risk of us being shot. I grabbed onto Quagedse's supple fur with my left hand, and steadied my rifle with my right. It was loaded and cocked.
From my right, I could hear Romochka's rifle. I couldn't see whether it had hit its target or not, but when Romochka fell over, a bullet in his chest, it was clear that it had not. Running over to him, I reached to check his pulse, but the way his arm fell over limply told me the answer. I must admit, I couldn't restrain myself, despite Quagedse's urging to the contrary, and aimed my rifle at the boulder. To my left, one of my comrades did the same.
And then the fight actually began. I fired as quickly as I could, loading bullets into my rifle and firing them off almost immediately, Quagedse holding them in her mouth until I could reach for them and reload. Men were falling from boulders around me, and the man at the top of the gulch seemed nowhere nearer to surrender. As I stretched up to fire again, I felt a sudden pain in my side.
It was like floating on a tiny gust of air. Everything around me seemed to slow down, and Quagedse fell onto my stomach, her tongue lolling with the pain she felt, but was too far away for me to feel. I couldn't hear the shooting anymore, so I lay down, all urgency seeming to slip away as I could feel my life doing the same. Even as I watched, Quagedse seemed to flicker, like one of the candles Elizaveta used to light on St. Lucia day, when Valentina come around to our bedroom, her daemon at her heels in the traditional form of a dog, the same shape Saint Lucia's took, carrying the tray of rolls and mugs of chocolatl to the family.
I could see Elizaveta lighting the candle by our bedside; it was always so much shorter than the ones we lit at other times of the year. And it flickered, just like Quagedse's existence was doing. And there was Valentina! Her soft eyes were gazing into mine, saying, "Papa, Mama's coming, and she'll make everything alright." And I believed her.
Behind me, the zeppelin exploded. Beneath me, the ground gave way. Beside me, Quagedse gave a final weak flicker, and died.